


What do you mean he's coming?

by MediaWhore



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Louis, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Deep conversations about fame (sort of), Famous Louis, Fluff, Gemma Styles & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, Gemma is a Bridezilla (sort of), I apologize in advance for how little plot there actually is, M/M, Non-Famous Harry, Photographer Harry, Slight Anxiety, Speech Writing, Weddings, childhood crushes, famous/non-famous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-08 11:38:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8843293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediaWhore/pseuds/MediaWhore
Summary: When Harry accepted to be his sister’s Maid of Honour, despite how non-traditional of a choice he was, he didn’t think writing a speech for the wedding reception would be this hard. Now, not only does he have less than two weeks left to find something moving and inspirational to say, but Gemma just confided in him that her old childhood best friend is going to be in attendance. The one who moved to LA and they haven’t seen in fifteen years because he was too busy becoming an Academy Awards winner. But hey, no pressure. It’s just Louis Fucking Tomlinson. Harry is screwed.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LSFOREVER](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSFOREVER/gifts).



> Dear LSFOREVER, a million apologies for posting this so late and thank you for the lovely prompts. I've taken a lot of liberties with them but there is a wedding in this story and it's fluffy and a little bit ridiculous so hopefully you'll still enjoy it <3

_14 Days Before_

“And that’s when,” Harry mumbles to himself as he types, “I knew that they were made for each other.”

He pauses for a second, biting his lips as he rereads the sentence. It doesn’t seem quite right yet.

“And it’s at that moment that I knew they were made for each other?” he tries before humming and erasing the last sentence to replace it with this new one. This is the sixth draft he’s made for his Man of Honour speech and he is praying it's finally going to be the right one. 

It’s just… every time he thinks he’s done with it, there’s a glaring and obvious error staring back at him, an awkwardness or badly phrased passage, and he's back to square one. Again. It seems like Harry will never be freed from it.

He passes a hand through his hair as he scrolls back to the top of the document to reread it aloud with the brand new ending. He opens his mouth, getting ready for a practice run when his phone starts ringing, the now very familiar sound of _Cruella De Vile_ echoing in his empty flat.

It’s Gemma. Again. Which means that it’s going to be something to make his life more complicated because ever since her boyfriend proposed and they started planning the wedding, every single call from Gemma has been either a complication or a request. Sometimes a complicated request.

Harry loves weddings, okay. He’s a photographer. He’s attended more weddings than he can count, and he has loved his experience every single time. They make him all mushy, make his heart beat faster and two times out of three, they bring a tear to his eyes. He really truly loves weddings. Hell, he can’t wait to plan his own! Not to mention that he adores Gemma and he’s so thankful for the close relationship they’ve always maintained. He knows not everyone is as lucky as he is when it comes to their relationships with a sibling. Harry doesn’t take that for granted. 

Still, sometimes there’s a small part of him, a very tiny almost non-existent part of him, that wishes he hadn’t accepted her offer to act as her Man of Honour/Bridesmaid in Chief/Emotional Support person. He sort of wishes they weren’t close enough for him to be the first person she calls in an emergency. He thought said person would be her fiancé. Right? That wasn’t a crazy idea. 

Well, according to the Maid of Honour list of duties he found online two weeks after accepting the position, it _was_ a crazy idea. 

Now, he’s the chosen one whenever a new irrelevant panic occurs and let’s be real, the wedding is in two weeks so there’s a new irrelevant panic every hour. Sometimes more frequently than that.

Harry would never say it out loud but he’s almost more excited for the wedding to be fucking over so he can get his freedom back than he is for his sister to be married. It’s shameful, but it’s true. 

He almost doesn’t answer the phone, that’s how tired he is. He looks at it ringing and listens to the sound of Roger’s crooning, secretly imagining an alternate universe where he lets it go to voicemail.  

“Don’t be stupid she’ll just call back,” he tells himself as he picks up the phone. “Hey Gems,” he adds carefully after answering. _Please be in a good mood,_ he thinks. 

“Hey Hazza!” she replies, voice all happy, and Harry knows he mentally begged for it but that’s not normal. He hasn’t heard Gemma this carefree in at least seven weeks. (Seven long weeks). Something’s up, Harry is sure of it.

“Are you okay?” he asks slowly because she’s either been abducted or drugged. There is no in-between. She almost sounds like her old normal self, the one whose return he’s impatiently waiting for.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” she laughs, like that’s an utterly insane thought. Harry almost mentions the invitations crisis and her subsequent reaction but he manages to stop himself just in time. The last thing he needs to do is trigger her.

“I don’t know,” he says instead, closing his laptop with one last lingering look and choosing to devote his time to Gemma’s issue, whatever it is, “problems with the florist? Or the caterers?” He shrugs even though she can’t see him. 

“Why would you say that?” she asks and there it is, that edge, that coldness he’s been getting used to. “Are you trying to curse us?”

Harry sighs. Why did he tell her about the wedding curse? Why did he have to mention it? Of course, past Harry had no idea Gemma would get married and he had no idea she would be so intense about it, but still. That’s one story he’s going to regret not keeping for himself. 

“The curse isn’t real Gems,” he says patiently for what feels like the hundredth times.

Gemma used to laugh about Harry’s worried brides whenever he told her stories about work. He used to defend their irrational actions while she cackled at their erratic behaviour. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Tell that to Rachel Burns,” she replies automatically like she always does, and Harry wishes he had never photographed Rachel Burns’ wedding. “Her mother talked about problems with the flowers and what happened?” she asks. “Hum? No flowers on her wedding day!”

“Her wedding was lovely,” Harry says, already reaching for his laptop, planning on sending her the pictures. Again.  “And she wasn’t cursed. Sometimes those things happen. It’s a big event, Gemma. Lots of things to coordinate.”

“What about the rings? That little girl said something about losing the rings two weeks before and what happened? Lost rings! It’s bad luck to talk about bad things happening okay. So you are not allowed to talk about potential problems at my wedding. It’s a simple rule, I don’t know why I have to remind you every single time I call.”

Harry rolls his eyes, mentally scolding himself for thinking about arguing back. “Never mind,” he replies instead and it takes everything he has to drop it. “Don’t listen to me,” he adds with an awkward laugh he hopes can diffuse the tension. It works better face to face when he can put the dimples to good use, but he’s hoping she’ll still be charmed. “How are you doing?” 

“Wonderful!” she replies happily like she wasn’t ready to stab him through the phone five seconds ago. 

She stopped making sense weeks ago, but Harry can’t help still finding it weird.

“You’ll never guess what happened,” she continues, not giving him the chance to reply. “Louis Tomlinson RSVP’d to my wedding!” she reveals cheerfully like it’s a completely normal thing for her to say, like she hangs out with Academy Award winners all the damn time.

“What the fuck?” Harry replies and he’s seriously considering pinching himself.

Gemma laughs instead of offering an explanation. “Don’t sound so surprised,” she tells him seriously, like he’s the one who isn’t behaving according to the script.

“How did this happen?” Harry asks, hating the way his voice goes high and panicky. He needs to calm down.

“I’ll have you know Louis and I are very good friends.”

Harry sighs. Not this again. “You _were_ very good friends, back when you were like… fourteen years old. A million years ago." 

Gemma scoffs. “I’m not that old, thank you.”

“Welllllllll,” Harry says, dragging the word, “you’re getting married. That’s proper adult stuff. Soon enough you’ll have kids of your own. Bye bye youth.”

“You say that like you aren’t already counting down the days until you have a niece or nephew to spoil.”

“That’s irrelevant,” Harry says quickly, feeling his cheeks warm. It’s not his fault he loves babies so much. “What’s important is how the hell you managed to get Louis Fucking Tomlinson to agree to come to your wedding?” No matter how many times he turns it around in his head, it still doesn’t make any sense.

“He’s my childhood best friend Haz, I just invited him,” she explains except it’s not really an explanation. “I didn’t think he’d be able to come, what with his schedule but he’s filming in the UK right now so he said yes.”

Harry drops his phone on his desk before shaking his head and mouthing “oh my god” angrily at his cat. He can’t believe her.

“How did you even know how to contact him?” he asks patiently once he’s grabbed his phone again. Hopefully, she won’t evade him now that he’s being more specific. 

“He’s my childhood best friend,” Gemma repeats slowly like he’s an idiot, but Harry happens to know for a fact that Gemma and Louis haven’t spoken to each other in years. Not since he had to move to Los Angeles with his family when they were fifteen. Something about his stepfather’s job if Harry remembers correctly.

Gemma had been heartbroken. Of course.

They had promised each other they would always stay in touch. Of course.

It hadn’t happened. Of course.

Harry has no idea how on earth she managed it, but he knows it involved more than just putting an invitation in the mail and hoping Louis would say yes.

“Gemma,” Harry says as sternly as possible, trying to get her to confess.

She snorts at his attempt and he can picture her unimpressed face in his mind, down to the skeptically raised eyebrow. “Fine, fine,” she finally says after a few seconds of deafening silence. “I might have sent the invitation to his fan mail address and then harassed him on twitter about it.” 

Harry groans, putting his hand over his eyes in embarrassment. He should have known. “Tell me you didn’t,” he almost begs.  

“He was really happy to hear from me!” Gemma argues and Harry hates the fact that he can’t be sure if that’s quite true because his sister is a stalker now, apparently. It’s what she does, harass celebrities online. This is what this crazy wedding fever has done to her. She used to be so level-headed. Thank god she didn’t start physically following Louis around otherwise Harry would have to disown her. 

“If you say so,” he replies sarcastically, moving his left foot up on his computer chair, wrapping an arm around his leg and dropping his chin on his knee.

“He was! I’ll have you know he said he’s missed me and that he was really really glad to hear from me. That’s twice _really_! ”

“Any chance he was being sarcastic? Tone is so hard to fathom in texts and you _are_ one of his stalkers now.”

“Actually,” she says a little too triumphantly, “there isn’t. Since we talked on the phone." 

“What?” Harry asks, feeling his heart drop, the possibility of Louis Tomlinson being at his sister’s wedding suddenly frighteningly real.

“Oh yeah, as soon as he noticed my account he followed me back and asked for my phone number.”

Harry can almost smell the smugness radiating off of her.

“So…. he’s really coming?” he says slowly, as he starts realising the implications. Louis Tomlinson. Actual real life Louis Tomlinson. 

“That’s what I’ve been telling you!” Gemma replies with the exasperated tone he’s become intimately familiar with in the past few weeks.

“Oh, sorry for not believing Britain’s darling, Marvel superstar, Oscar winner Louis Tomlinson had actually got back to you about the wedding of someone he hasn’t seen in almost fifteen years,” Harry snaps sarcastically, regretting it as soon as it’s out of his mouth.

Gemma doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“Sorry,” Harry whispers. 

“How is the speechwriting going?” Gemma asks innocently and Harry has to restrain himself from groaning. She’s getting back at him, he knows she is, and he certainly won’t give her the satisfaction.

“Great!” he replies with way too much enthusiasm. _Tone it down,_ he mentally tells himself before adding: “I was actually working on it when you called.” 

“It’s not finished yet?” 

“Just needs a bit polishing is all,” Harry lies, glancing at his laptop.  He’s been trying to write this fucking speech ever since Gemma asked him to be her Maid of Honour, which happened approximately seven minutes after the proposal. To say it’s not going well would be the understatement of the century.

“It better make me cry!” Gemma teases and he knows there’s probably no real pressure but it still makes him feel like he’s going to throw up from the nerves.  

“So, who else have you told about this Louis Tomlinson thing?” Harry asks, trying to divert her attention. 

She giggles mischievously. “Nobody,” she says gleefully. “They’re all gonna lose their shit.”

“Did Louis agree to this?” Harry asks without thinking and he frowns a little, surprised at the fierceness of his outrage. “To be the wedding surprise?

“Oh it’s Louiiis now, that’s intimate. For someone who never managed to say more than three words in his presence.” 

Oh no, Harry will not let himself be teased like this.

“That’s a very narrow interpretation of our childhood,” he accuses.

“You had the biggest, most embarrassing crush on him.”

“That’s not true,” Harry replies, a tad too indignant. It’s a lie. He knows it is and she knows it is, but he’s not going to let himself be mocked for it.  What if he had a crush on Louis when he was a kid? It was a long time ago.

“It is actually, everyone could see it.”

“I think it’s kind of rude that you’re using Louis like that, like some sort of exhibition.” 

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to change the subject. And Louis was delighted when I suggested it. He’s still as mischievous as he’s always been, you know. He said it’d be bloody hilarious to have nobody know about it.”

“Why are you telling me then?” 

“You don’t count!” Gemma laughs fondly. “Besides, I had to tell someone. I was gonna explode. I’m so excited to see him again. I really missed him.”

“Yeah,” Harry whispers and truth be told, he missed Louis too. Not Louis Oscar Winner Tomlinson who dazzles everyone on Late Night Shows whenever Harry catches them. No, he missed the cool, kind boy who always had a bit of time for his best friend’s dorky little brother. 

 

_11 Days Before_

 “Remind me again why I agreed to be my sister’s maid of honour?” Harry asks Niall in between two bites of pizza. “It’s really not traditional and quite uncommon.”

“Because it’s really not traditional and quite uncommon and you love that shit?” Niall replies like it’s obvious. “Oh and also you love her and would do anything for her?” 

“I’m an idiot,” Harry says with a nod, looking at the dozens of papers surrounding them. He thought calling in Niall as reinforcement would help considering he’s an aspiring songwriter in his downtime, but apparently it just means he has twice as many vague ideas and no discipline to follow through them. Now Harry has four new potential threads and no idea how he’s supposed to make up his mind. Oh, and there’s only eleven days left to the wedding. Great.

“You’ll figure it out,” Niall says reassuringly before starting to pick up the mess they created when they crashed on the floor two hours ago. He licks his lips as he reads a few lines on one of the papers. “There’s some really good ideas here Haz, you just gotta let your heart do the talking.”

“Do the Oscars of 2016 ring a bell Niall?” Harry says, thinking about the heartwarming speech Louis Tomlinson delivered that made the entire world cry. Thinking about the fact this is going to be part of his audience makes Harry want to throw up.

“Does this have a point? Or are you just drunkenly rambling now?”

Harry opens his mouth to share the fact that Louis is going to be there when he remembers his sister’s excitement at the thought of everyone being surprised by Louis’ presence. He thinks it’s really fucked up that she’d parade Louis like a zoo animal, even if he apparently agreed, but he doesn’t want to do anything to ruin the vision she has for her special day.

“I want my speech to be like that,” he finally says instead. “I want it to have a similar impact.”

“He won it for his performance in one of history’s most acclaimed LGBT+ film and he came out in it which moved literally everyone on Earth. Even the bigots.”

“I know.”

“Maybe you should have more realistic goals,” Niall offers, not unkindly.

“Fuck you,” Harry says without heat. He knows there’s no way his speech is going to be as good.

“Listen, stop trying to compare yourself to other people… That’s pointless. She’s your sister, one of your best friends! What do you want to say to her?”

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? No matter how many versions of the speech he writes, Harry has no fucking idea.

 

_10 Days Before_

“Wow,” the tiny Louis Tomlinson on Harry’s computer screen says. He looks at the even tinier golden statue in his hands with shiny, overwhelmed eyes. “I mean, that’s…” he laughs a little, cheeks reddening. So effortlessly charming.

Harry knows he can be charismatic, but what Louis has can’t be taught. Even Harry’s dimples can’t help him get there.

“Thank you, so much,” the tiny Louis continues, voice shaking. Harry knows the speech by heart now, but it still gets to him to see how clearly moved Louis was. “This means the world to me, especially to win for a performance and a film that’s so close to my heart.”

This is the part where Harry always starts crying, his heart bursting at the seams with how proud of Louis he is.

“I wanna say thank you to our writers and our director for making such an important LGBT film and for trusting little old me to carry it,” Louis laughs quietly, looking down for a few seconds, his eyelashes long and delicate. “I wanna thank the Academy for recognizing my performance and my fellow nominees for raising the game and being such inspiring artists.” He takes a deep breath before continuing, looking fiercely determined. Even though Harry already knows what’s coming, it punches him in the gut again to see Louis, tiny yet so strong, getting ready to finally be himself in front of the whole world. “When I first came out to my family,” Louis says, his voice more steady than Harry could ever hope to achieve in similar circumstances, “I was embraced and celebrated so I want to thank all of them for being the most incredible support system anyone could ever hope for. And I’d like to add for all members of our community; our stories matter and deserve to be told and now more than ever I want to dedicate myself to telling them. Thank you.”

Harry gets misty-eyed every time he hears it and yet he still finds himself surprised to feel tears sliding off his cheeks. It’s hard not to be impressed by the dignity of Louis’ character, the bravery in his soul. He was a wonderful person when they were children but it seems that age has only improved him.

Harry knows it’s silly to be nervous at the thought of Louis’ presence but he can’t help himself. He feels like he’s twelve again, blushing furiously whenever Louis gave him the tiniest bit of attention, trying his hardest not to be so greedy for it and obsessed with one thing and one thing only; impressing Louis William Tomlinson.

Harry needs to shake himself out of it if he ever hopes to successfully write and deliver his speech.

 

_7 Days Before_

A week before the fateful day finds Harry photographing a beautiful wedding a few hours away from London. He sheds a tear with them as they exchange touching vows of love and devotion, feeling quite privileged that he gets to witness such happy moments. Both brides are wearing suits, one in white, the other in black, and Harry smiles at his camera as he reviews the pictures, taking a small break during the reception. People are enjoying their meal and even he knows that most of them don’t want to be photographed chewing.

The brides are contrasting each other beautifully, giving each other positively smitten looks in every picture he’s taken that features both of them. He can already tell that after a few light edits these are going to be some of his strongest pictures. He already has plans to ask permission to add them to his best pictures album on Flickr, the one he sends to potential clients. He’s mentally choosing his favourites when one of the brides’ brother stands up and start clicking his knife softly against his wineglass.

Isabella rolls her eyes at her brother's antics, blushing a little before giving her wife a small peck on the lips and rubbing their noses together. Harry smirks as he watches the display of affection. They're adorable. He loves weddings so much.

"Actually," the brother says with a small snort, "I was going to make a speech but if you two want to make out..."

He winks at them but Harry can’t even appreciate the joke, smile sliding off his face when he hears the word speech coming of the man’s mouth. Alfred? Albert? Harry can’t remember his name but whatever it is hardly matters when this guy is killing Harry’s happy buzz.

 _Stupid wedding speeches_ , he thinks angrily.

The whole room is laughing, of course, and Isabella gives her brother (Andrew?) a slap on the wrist.

"See what you're gonna have to deal with?" he says, shaking his hand exaggeratedly, a fake grimace on his face. "Seriously El, you're stuck with her for life. Sure you're ready for this?"

She pretends to think it over for a second before nodding enthusiastically to her new brother-in-law.

"Alright then, if you're sure I have a little speech prepared for you guys. Especially for my baby sister Bella."

He takes a deep breath before continuing and Harry feels his heart stop in his chest. This is going to be him soon. He's going to have to do this.

"Me and Bella didn't always see eye to eye. We were always at each other's throat when we were kids."

Isabella nods eagerly in response before taking a big gulp of wine.

"It's true. And for a while when we were teenagers I really thought we wouldn't ever be close. I loved you as my sister of course, but the past few years I really feel like I've gotten to know you not only as the incredibly beautiful and talented woman that you are but also as a friend. I love the fact that I can call you up when I have something on my mind and you always have time for me. Even if you were previously .... engaged," he says suggestively, winking at Isabella and Eleanor. They both turn an alarming shade of red while the entire room starts giggling.

It's not Shakespeare. Isabella's brother is a man of simple words, yet he's so heartfelt and he looks at his sister like the mere fact that she gets to be this happy means the whole world to him. It makes Harry want to cry again, the sentences he tweaked this morning now embarrassing in comparison.  How is he supposed to do this?

“I'm so lucky to have you Bels,” Arthur continues before clearing his throat. He’s clearly holding back tears. “You give the best advice and you’re always there to support me and everyone that you love. Which is why I’m so happy and grateful that you found such incredible support in El. You two… You’re goals man. I look at you and I think _I want that_. So El, thank you for making my baby sister so happy, it’s all I’ve ever wanted for her. Now I can rest easy knowing she has you. To Bella  & El!” he says, ending his speech with a shaky voice and raising his glass towards the crowd as they echo him.

“To Bella & El,” Harry whispers before dropping his gaze to the floor.

He doesn’t feel too good suddenly. All the previous fuzzy feelings of the wedding have disappeared, replaced by the now familiar feeling of anxiety dropping like lead in his stomach. 

“Are you alright dear?” One of Isabelle’s great-aunt asks him, putting a hand sparkling with jewels on his forearm.

Harry clears his throat before nodding.

“You look a little pale,” she continues softly, reaching for his forehead.

“I am feeling a little weird,” Harry admits, moving away from her grasping hands. “I’m just going to…” he points the exit before getting up quickly. “Toilet,” he mumbles awkwardly before running away. 

He quickly locks the door when he finally reaches the bathroom, sending a desperate text to Niall.

 _I can’t do it Ni_.

He puts his phone back in his pocket and walks to the sink to put some water on his neck. It helps a little but he still feels on the edge of madness.

He’s surprised when he hears his phone ping with a response. Niall doesn’t usually check his phone on Saturday nights because he performs at the pub near his flat. Whatever the reason is for the change of schedule, Harry can’t help but feel grateful that his friend is available to help even if it’s just to send him back a few question marks.

 _The speech!_ he replies quickly, adding a sad-faced emoji before walking back to the door and letting himself drop to the floor like he’s in a teen drama on ITV. _Aren’t you supposed to be at the pub?_ he adds, curious about his friend’s schedule despite his current crisis.

 _This again!!!!!!!_ Niall sends back and Harry can feel his friend’s exasperation through text which is quite an achievement. He can’t help his nerves, though. 

_The brother of the bride made an incredible speech tonight._

_Good for him!_ Niall replies before adding: _Night was a bit slow so they closed early._

 _Good for him, bad for me,_ Harry adds. There’s a small voice in the back of his head telling him he’s being an immature twat, hiding in the loo like this, but he’s too anxious to listen to it. _My speech is never going to be as good._

“You’re pathetic,” Harry whispers to himself after hitting send.

Niall’s response comes through almost immediately.

_Will you stop comparing yourself to other people?!! First Louis Tomlinson, now this random bro? You need to calm down. Relax! Chill!_

Harry can almost hear Niall trying to be stern with him. Almost. 

_Very helpful Ni._

It takes two seconds for his phone to start to ring.

“Don’t,” Harry whimpers instead of saying hello.  

“Do I need to come here and hit you on the head Haz?” Niall teases in response. “Seriously, you’re at work! Go take pictures of people being disgustingly in love and stop thinking about the speech.”

“It’s just, I was listening to this guy earlier and I think maybe I should start over?” Harry says hesitantly. He can do better than what he has right now. Surely, he can do better.

“Literally I am going to murder you in your sleep. You started over two days ago. Remember that?” 

And yes, alright, maybe Harry got a little angry at his speech and started a new one at two am but it doesn’t matter because the new one is also terrible.

“The only thing you have left to do now is to decide which of the _two_ excellent drafts you have is your favourite,” Niall continues and Harry can hear him strumming on his guitar as they speak. 

“None of them,” he replies petulantly.

“Are you five?” Niall asks with a big laugh and it’s comforting in a way, to know that no matter what idiotic immature thing he’ll say Niall will be there to snap him out it.

“I feel five,” Harry admits, a tad ashamed. He’s not sure where this is all coming from. He’s never been nervous about speaking in public before. He’s never been a huge fan of course, but it’s never been the source of such anguish. 

“I’m sorry you’re nervous bro,” Niall says softly, “but I’m sure it’s going to go brilliantly. You just gotta stop thinking about it so hard. It’s going to be one of Gemma’s happiest days, do you think she’s gonna criticize you? Whatever you have to say, she’ll enjoy it. I know she’s been teasing you but come on, you know her. That woman adores you, you could say five words and she’d be impressed and pleased.”

Niall isn’t wrong. It’s Gemma’s mischievous nature that has pushed her to tease him about the speech but he knows there’s no true pressure to perform well. Truth be told, she probably doesn’t care. She just wants the people she loves most to be there, no matter how intense she’s become in the past few weeks. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry admits timidly, picking out a stray cat hair from his suit.

The thing is, deep down, Harry knows it’s not just Gemma he’s trying to impress. And that’s a tougher truth to swallow.

 

_3 Days Before_

“And that’s why I think you two are perfect for each other,” Harry finishes dramatically, one hand holding the second version of his speech, the other up in the air, reaching for… He’s not quite sure. 

He drops his arms and lowers his gaze to his couch where his audience of one sits patiently in silence.

“What do you think?” Harry asks in a small defeated voice. 

Fluffy looks back at him with round curious eyes.

“Yeah, it was pretty bad, uh?” Harry mumbles before letting himself drop onto his couch, disturbing his sleeping cat. Fluffy meows in protest before climbing on top of Harry’s thighs and cuddling up to him.

“I just don’t know which version is better,” Harry continues, his fingers digging into his best friend’s fur. “They both sound horribly cliched to me. But at the same time, it’s a wedding. Things are bound to be cliched, right? And I’ve heard so many of those speeches before, I suppose they all sound the same to me now. Niall said I was overthinking it and that I’m not allowed to call him about this anymore but… How can it be overthinking when it’s something _that_ important. Surely, I’m thinking about it the perfect amount.” 

Fluffy starts purring in response.

“Maybe I should just fold them, put them in one of my hats and let fate decide for me.”

Fluffy blinks, adorable but unhelpful.

 

_1 Day Before_

“I just don’t know what to do mum,” Harry moans into the phone, curling up under his duvet.

“Cherish every second of freedom you have left away from here,” she replies in a whisper and Harry has never been more glad that he refused his sister’s offer to spend the week before the wedding at the inn with her to make sure everything goes according to plan.

“That bad, uh?”

Anne sighs. “No,” she says softly because she’d rather cut off her own arm than speak ill of her children. “She’s just very intense at the moment and we have to support her through that but it’s…” 

“A horrible pain in the arse?” Harry offers. He only has to remember their last few phone conversations to imagine how painful the past few days have been for his mother. And the poor employes at the gorgeous inn. Harry really hopes they’re going to get tipped immensely for tolerating the whole thing.

“Don’t talk about your sister like that,” his mother replies sternly. “But yes, it is.”

Harry snorts, secretly cherishing bonding with his mum over this.

“And about the speech,” she continues, “just see how you feel tomorrow. Bring both of them and you’ll know in the moment what feels right.” 

“You think so?” Harry asks in a small voice.

“I know so.”

“Thanks, mum.”

“Of course darling. Sleep well and I’ll see you tomorrow morning, right?”

 

_D-Day_

Harry wakes up the morning of the wedding with a gasp and a slight nauseous feeling. He fumbles for his phone on his bedside table for a few seconds and sighs deeply when he finally manages to turn his alarm off. 

He already has sixteen texts from Gemma asking where the hell he is and it’s not even passed six yet.

“You can do this,” he mumbles encouragingly to himself before dragging the anxious mess of his body to the bathroom for a shower, hoping it will make him feel better. 

It doesn’t.

The hum of anxiety throbbing in his veins is still present as he grabs his suit, his shoes, and his car keys before locking up the door to his flat. He has a forty-five minutes drive to get to the wedding venue and a phone that keeps ringing. He’s not even late yet. Technically, he’s actually early, but he’s pretty sure Gemma doesn’t care about that.

He makes sure both versions of his speech are in his bag one last time before starting the car.

It’s show time.  

* 

Once he gets to the inn, Harry gasps at the sight. He’s seen the pictures and he’s visited once with Gemma, but seeing the way they have transformed the place to answer to her demands is absolutely amazing. The place feels enchanted, like it doesn’t belong in this world, and for the first time in a long time, Harry actually feels excited.

His big sister is getting married. It’s finally happening.

*

Harry is carefully applying the second coat of Gemma’s blood red nail polish when their step-dad bursts into the room slightly out of breath.

There’s less than an hour left before the wedding, guests have started arriving and Harry has finally managed to calm Gemma down. They can’t have an emergency right now, his heart couldn’t take it. He’s still not dressed and neither is she. They don’t have time for this.

“Oh god,” Harry moans at the sight of Robin putting a hand on his chest and taking long deep breaths. “Please tell me you’re bringing good news.”

“Did something happen?” Gemma asks, trying to get up from her seat.

Harry groans when he feels her squirming and she stops, giving her hand a calculating look. They don’t have time for a nail polish mess on top of whatever this new situation is so she stops moving and relaxes into her chair, letting Harry do his job. 

“Louis Tomlinson is downstairs,” Robin says gleefully, a sparkle of boyish interest and excitation in his eyes, the Marvel fanboy in him clearly awakening. 

Robin wasn’t in their mother’s life when Gemma and Louis were best friends but he’s heard the stories and he’s seen the family pictures still hanging in the hallway, Louis’ childish smile featured in a few snaps. Still, knowing and seeing are two different things, as is proven by his half-excited, half-shocked face. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting Louis to make an appearance. And he’s probably not the only one.

It’s a complication, but not a problem. Harry can deal with this.

“Oh,” Harry says with as much nonchalance as he can master, keeping his eyes fixed on the task at hand. “Your surprise arrived,” he adds, heart thumping so fast he’s sure the people downstairs, including Louis, can hear it. He’s not proud of it, but a small part of him was still hoping he wouldn’t show up. Harry wants to see him, of course. And more importantly, he wants Gemma to have someone who was so significant to her there for her special day. It’s just it would be so much easier without him. 

“Wait,” Robin says and Harry looks up just in time to see his face falls in betrayal. “You knew about this?” 

Harry turns to look at Gemma’s face, awkwardly still holding her hand and the brush. He frowns when she casually shrugs.

“Yes,” Harry admits through gritted teeth, tightening his hold on his sister’s fingers in the hope that she’ll take over the explanation. He knows it’s her wedding day, but this was her twisted plan. Harry is certainly not going to make excuses for her.

She rolls her eyes before giving Robin her most innocent, bridal smile. “Of course I knew, I invited him!”

“When?”

She shrugs again, her carefully curled hair bouncing off her shoulders. “A while ago? I figured it would be better to keep it private for now, considering. Don’t want paps or fangirls at my wedding.” 

Harry snorts. Yes, that’s the true reason. Not because she thought it would be fucking hilarious. Right.

“He’s very famous in case you don’t remember Harry,” Gemma says warningly. 

“Yeah and you’re very mischievous in case you don’t remember Gemma,” Harry mimics in reply.

“I don’t want to know what this is about,” Robin laughs. “I just wanted to warn you and now I have so I will leave you to it. You feeling okay darling? Not too nervous I hope?” he adds teasingly, leaning down to give Gemma a kiss on the cheek.

“My makeup is done,” she shrieks with a laugh, leaning as far away from him as possible and into Harry’s space. He wraps a protective arm around her bathing robe and gives Robin a warning look.

“Alright, alright. I’m leaving. You look lovely Gems. I’m really happy for you.”

“He wasn’t being mobbed too badly, right?” Harry can’t help but ask as he lets go of his sister. He can already imagine his noisy cousin and her boyfriend harassing Louis into starring in their snapchats all evening.

“I think they’re too intimidated and shocked to mob him to be honest,” Robin chuckles.

Gemma’s face falls. “Well, that’s not good either.”

“Don’t worry, your mother found him and they’ve been catching up. I think they hugged for ten minutes when he arrived.” 

“Well, she was always very fond of him,” Gemma replies. She gives Harry an affectionate, knowing smile before adding: “All the Styles were.”

Harry feels himself blush at the comment.

Whatever. It was a long time ago, he’s so over it. So what if Louis was his first true boy crush, the first time his mind went from _uh maybe I find boys attractive too_ to _yes okay I want to make out with him all day_. It doesn’t matter and he can’t let himself be intimidated by it. He’s supposed to be thinking about his speech, about making sure the whole day is perfect for Gemma. Nothing else is allowed to take space in his brain right now. He won’t let it. 

* 

The ceremony passes in a blur of Gemma looking radiant and Harry crying more than he’d be willing to admit. Hearing his sister commit to the love of her life leaves no space for anything but pure joy and pride and Harry almost forgets that Louis is there. 

Almost.

It’s like an annoying tickle at the back of his brain, a little; _you haven’t seen him yet but he’s somewhere in this room._

Still, Harry doesn’t let his eyes stray to the crowd, too hypnotized by the figure of beauty and grace his sister makes.

It’s a beautiful day, a beautiful moment, and he’s so happy for her he could burst. 

The whole wedding is so surreal it feels like it’s happening too fast and Harry can’t process it. There are so many people surrounding him, so many aunts and uncles and cousins hugging him and cooing about how beautiful the ceremony was and how radiant the newlyweds look. He can only nod along quickly before he’s grabbed by another member of the family and he has to start all over again. It’s a whirlwind of people and moments he’s struggling to grasp and suddenly he’s standing up from his place at the head table, hands shaking as they’re holding both versions of his speech and he has no idea how the dinner went by so fast but it’s his turn to speak now, somehow.

His mum said he’d know in the moment which version of the speech feels right, except his mind is blank and he has no idea. He’s trying to quickly make a pros and cons list of each speech while he’s slowly getting out of his chair which is why he gets his foot stuck and almost falls into the table.

He feels himself blush and quickly scans the crowd to gauge their reaction. 

He’s not looking for Louis Tomlinson’s face through the familiar gazes of his sister’s friends and family which, of course, is probably why his is the first one he sees. And it’s not fair that he should look like this, ethereal and unexpected; all sharp cheekbones and delicate curvy body. Harry would gasp at the sight if he wasn’t trying to deliver a speech right now.  It’s not like Harry doesn’t know what Louis looks like, he’s in movies and on television. There’s a giant billboard of his next film near Harry’s flat for Christ’s sake. He shouldn’t be shaken by the sight of him in a well-fitted suit. And yet.

“Well,” Harry chuckles, turning his eyes away from Louis’ face, “I like to make an entrance,” he jokes, taking a small bow, hoping it comes off as charming rather than idiotic. The little laughs he gets from the crowd seems to indicate he’s in the right direction. 

He clears his throat, looking down at the pieces of paper he’s still holding, before giving his sister a look. She’s looking back fondly and there’s no pressure, no expectation. He thinks he could apologize for not having anything to say and she’d still hug and kiss him with how blissed she looks.

He folds the papers and quickly puts them back into the inside pocket of his jacket. His mother was right, he does know what to say now. 

He’s got this. 

* 

Harry spends the first couple of dances thoroughly humiliating himself with the children, shaking his bum exaggeratedly to make them laugh but after five performances in a row, he finds himself a bit tired and in need of substance. Which is how he finds himself dropping his body at the bar and passing a hand through his hair. He’s a bit sweaty but it’s not too bad.   

“Hey,” a soft raspy voice says from behind Harry and he doesn’t mean to jump but he can’t help himself.

He could recognize that sound anywhere. He gulps nervously before turning away from the bar to face Louis.

He gulps nervously before turning away from the bar to face Louis. “Hey,” he croaks awkwardly. He sounds pathetic and it needs to stop.

Louis just smiles at him before gesturing at the stool right next to him. “Can I?” he asks politely and of course he just wants a drink, he didn’t come here to talk to _Harry._  

“Oh, of course,” Harry babbles. “Sit down, have a drink. That’s what weddings are for, right?” he chuckles awkwardly and he mentally groans when Louis gives him a questioning look. "I'm Harry," he adds casually, holding out his hand for Louis to shake. It's the polite thing to do after all.

Louis snorts in response, giving Harry's hand an unconvinced look. "Yeah," he replies, eyes crinkling. "I know."

"The speech, right!" Harry says, snapping his fingers. "I introduced myself before it of course, silly me."  

Louis rolls his eyes.  "What the.... Harry, I used to go to yours every day after school for years! Of course, I know who you are."  

“Oh.” Harry lets out an awkward laugh. “You remember?” he asks, turning his attention to his the barman instead. He’s not sure what he was actually hoping for, Louis remembering or him not having a clue. Now that it’s confirmed that he does remember, he’s even less sure how he feels about it. 

“I moved to LA, I didn’t get a lobotomy.”

“Well, you never know with those tanned Americans,” Harry teases with a casual shrug, risking a side glance in Louis’ direction. He looks impeccable. 

Louis chuckles lightly, giving Harry a calculating look. “Fair enough,” he admits with a small smirk.

“Glad you didn’t forget us little people though,” Harry says, elbowing Louis playfully.

What the fuck is he doing?

“Not so little anymore,” Louis teases back, letting his gaze drop to give Harry a long lingering look, from the top of his head to his sparkly boots.

Harry hates himself a little for the blush he can feel appearing on his cheeks. _Get a grip!_ he mentally tells himself. 

“Right,” he says, fiddling nervously with the rings on his fingers, “you moved before the infamous growth spur.”

“I did. Last I remember you were about this high,” Louis says, putting his hand out to give Harry’s approximate height at the time. He’s being ridiculously inaccurate in his estimate. 

“Excuse you, I wasn’t that small,” Harry protests. “I was barely smaller than you and you haven’t even grown much.” 

“Ouch,” Louis deadpans, putting his hand over his heart like he’s been physically hurt. “My one biggest insecurity and you just went for it. After fifteen years apart? Quite savage Hazza,” he adds lowering his head defeatedly.

Harry knows he’s probably being played right now, Louis is an actor after all, but he can’t help but feel his heart twist.

“Sorry?”

“I guess I could accept your apology if, and only if, you buy me a drink,” Louis smirks, pointing at the bottles lined up behind the bar.  

“It’s an open bar,” Harry replies automatically. 

“So?” Louis says, raising an eyebrow. 

“Can we get champagne?” Harry asks the barman sheepishly.

“Fancy.” 

“Well it’s a wedding and my sister is paying so…” Harry shrugs and he feels satisfaction curling in his belly when Louis laughs in response. 

“Lovely speech by the way,” Louis says after they’ve gotten their drinks, raising his glass towards Harry before taking a small sip.

“Thanks,” Harry says, biting his lower lip. “I was really nervous,” he admits shyly.

“Really?” Louis asks with a small smile in the corner of his mouth. “Couldn’t tell,” he adds softly like Harry didn’t embarrass himself thoroughly at first, almost falling over like that.

Harry rolls his eyes in response, feeling his cheeks starting to burn again. “Shut up,” he mumbles. Will he be able to go more than a few words in this conversation without turning crimson? “You’re the one who made me so nervous in the first place!” he whines and that’s definitely not something he was planning on admitting, especially not to Louis, but there it is. 

“What?” Louis says, bursting out into laughter. “Little old me?”

“Well…” Harry giggles. “Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

“I kept thinking about all the successful acceptance speeches you’ve made in your career, especially your Oscar one and it freaked me out. I was like _this is your audience.”_

“Yeah,” Louis says softly, “the Oscar one was pretty special. But I’d think a man who saw me through my emo phase would have a hard time finding me intimidating.”

Harry can’t help snorting at the comment and of course, because he’s lucky like this, it resonates throughout the room as the band ends their cover of All You Need Is Love.

“Ignore him,” Louis tells a couple of Harry and Gemma’s aunts. “Stop laughing you,” he adds towards Harry in a whisper. 

“I’d forgotten about that,” Harry admits, still giggling. “That was bloody awful.” 

“Alright, don’t think I don’t remember your baggy trouser and poofy hair, Mr. Runway,” Louis says defensively, gesturing towards Harry’s outfit. 

He preens a little at the comment, looking down at his ruffled shirt and the careful velvet lines on his suit. It’s a bit different than everyone else’s, but Harry is pretty proud of it.

“Let’s just admit that we both made mistakes and move on,” Harry says with dignity, trying not to cringe at the thought of Louis remembering all the awfully embarrassing things he did as a child.

“Deal, let’s talk about what you’ve been up to instead.” 

“Me? Oh, not much.” 

“Yes, you. Come on, you know what I’ve been up to, it’s only fair.”

“Yeah, you’ve been ridiculously successful and you charmed the whole world in the process,” Harry pouts. “Me? Nothing as impressive.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s lie,” Louis says softly. “Besides,” he adds, putting a friendly hand on Harry’s wrist, “impressive is relative. I’m really curious, though, I didn’t get a chance to ask Gemma when we talked on the phone.”

Well, Harry is pretty sure his skin is on _fire,_ the small point where they are touching aflame at the contact of Louis’ fingers. 

“You wanted to ask Gemma about me? ” Harry says and it’s a miracle he sounds so normal, so unaffected when he feels like he’s going to melt. He subtly moves his hand under the pretext of grabbing his drink, feeling himself breathe a little easier now that they’re not touching.

He can’t have a crush on Louis Tomlinson. That’s not allowed. That can’t happen. It was all fine and dandy when he was a kid and Louis was Gemma’s older, charismatic friend but the whole world is in love with him now. Harry is bound for a painful awakening if he lets himself feel this.

“Of course,” Louis says, bringing his hand back on his side of the bar slowly. “We always got on so I was curious what you were up to.” 

“I’m a photographer,” he replies, trying his best not to sound too stilted. Suddenly, he really wants Louis to approve.

“Yeah? Maybe we should do a photoshoot together. For Vogue or something,” Louis says with a smile and a casual hand gesture, like that could ever happen.   

Harry laughs. Vogue? Right. Not that it wouldn’t be amazing but…

“I’m not really that kind of photographer,” Harry admits, mentally reminding himself there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Maybe he’s not the kind of high caliber photographer that Louis is used to, but he’s proud of his work. “I do weddings? Family portraits? Stuff like that? Once in awhile, I do small exhibits for some of my personal stuff…”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Louis says, sounding surprised but delighted. “You should tell me next time you do one, I’ll see if I can come.” 

Harry’s heart skips a beat. “You don’t have to do that,” he replies quickly, suddenly overwhelmed, fumbling for his drink and spilling some. He’s a mess.

Louis bites his lower lip, clearly trying not to laugh. He gestures towards the barman and starts cleaning the mess the second the man brings him a napkin. 

“I know I don’t have to, silly,” Louis says matter-of-factly. “I want to. And I will if I’m in the country.”

That’s… That’s very difficult for Harry to deal with. It’s almost unfair that Louis looks like _this_ and has a career like _that_ and still manages to be so… Louis. 

“What?” Louis finally asks after a few seconds of silence.

“Nothing,” Harry replies, rolling his eyes at himself. It’s hard not to stare at Louis. He’s so down to earth and effortlessly charming. He’s the kind of man people naturally navigate towards, commanding the room without even trying. Harry feels like he’d be the center of attention even if he weren’t famous. A natural leader, if Harry ever saw one.

Louis squints at him for a few seconds. “You were staring,” he accuses. “Tell me.”

“No,” Harry laughs, rubbing his nose, feeling suddenly embarrassed. “It’s nothing.” 

“Oh my god, Harold you have to tell me,” Louis says insistently, grabbing Harry’s forearm tightly, making his heart jump slightly in his chest at the contact. Louis really needs to stop touching him before he does something really embarrassing like try to kiss him in front of everybody.

Harry laughs, pushing Louis away playfully. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Um, yes you do.”

Harry pouts and starts shaking his head disappointedly. “There it is, I knew it,” he sighs dramatically. “You’re a Hollywood Diva now. Demanding things.”

“Fuck off,” Louis scoffs, pushing Harry away and they look like two bickering five years old, but it’s fun. Louis is fun. He’s pretending to be angry right now but Harry can tell he’s endeared by the way he scrunches his nose. Harry would almost say he looks fond but he can’t afford to misinterpret this and give himself false hope. There’s just no point.

“Actually I was staring because I’m amazed how little you’ve changed. You’re still…" 

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Harry lies, stopping himself from saying things like _charming and down to earth and lovely and kind and beautiful_ all of which would be really humiliating and only lead to heartbreak. “You’re you,” he adds simply because he’s not quite sure how else to express it.

“Haven’t been brainwashed by the scary tanned Americans yet?” Louis asks softly.

“No.”

“Well, that’s a relief. And I meant it. I’d love to see one of your exhibitions, I’m not just trying to be nice.” 

“Okay,” Harry says.

“Okay,” Louis mimics mockingly.

Harry’s about to ask Louis about moving to L.A. and what life there is like when he hears someone clearing their throat to his left.

“Hey, Louis.” It’s one of Gemma’s friend, Chloe, and she looks shy and awkward like she’s unsure she’s actually allowed to interrupt them.

“Hey, love,” Louis replies with a blinding smile and it’s almost too funny to see the way Chloe blushes and stutters in response.

Harry has never seen her like this, used to her usual cool and collected attitude that fits her like a glove. He can’t wait to tease her about this. Hell, he can’t wait to tell Gemma. She’s going to find it hilarious once the whole wedding thing dies down. 

Chloe giggles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. It’s absolutely priceless.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” she says, heart in her eyes. “I had no idea you and Gemma knew each other,” she adds, eyes wide with wonder.

Louis laughs brightly, giving Harry a small amused glance. “Full of surprises, isn’t she?” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Chloe nods enthusiastically like Louis said something particularly illuminating.

Harry can’t even make fun of her for that. He knows he probably looks like an enamoured fool too every time Louis opens his mouth.

“Do you think we can take a picture?” she asks sheepishly.

Louis pretends to think about it for a second. “Of course, just don’t put it online yeah?”

She nods quickly, babbling that she’d _never ever_ if he doesn’t want her to and Harry can’t help the small snort that escapes him. He turns to face the bar and his champagne glass, giving them privacy as they cuddle up for a selfie.

“I’m surprised it took this long,” Harry whispers when Chloe finally leaves.

“You knew she was a fan?”

“What?” Harry frowns. “No, I meant…. Before someone approached you for a picture.”

“Oh!” Louis gasps before shaking his head. “Most people got their pictures before the ceremony,” he adds, shrugging nonchalantly. 

“What?” Harry whispers, face falling in horror. 

Louis laughs, reaching for Harry’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s not a big deal,” he says. “Everyone was lovely.” 

“I’m so sorry, I knew this was gonna happen,” Harry says frantically. He’s so worked up he barely listened to Louis’ reply. “I told Gemma it was a bad idea not to warn everybody. I knew they were gonna mob you and harass you and -”

“Hey,” Louis interrupts softly, using the hand still on Harry’s shoulder to shake him a little. “It’s very sweet of you to worry but I promise everyone was lovely and I wouldn’t have accepted Gemma’s invitation if I thought I’d be uncomfortable.” 

“Still, you’re here as Gemma’s guest, as a friend, not to _work_.”

“Taking a few pictures with members of your family is hardly work Harry. And your mother was very stern about what people were allowed to do. No mobbing or harassment.”

It doesn’t make it okay but Harry supposes knowing his mother supervised the whole thing makes it slightly better. “She is very protective,” he agrees, reluctant to drop the subject. 

“Hasn’t changed a bit,” Louis laughs. “Seriously, though, it was all fine. Nobody asked any inappropriate questions about my sex life so I consider it a good day.”

Harry gasps. “People do that?”

“Oh you sweet summer child.”

“That’s really inappropriate,” Harry mumbles, trying very much _not_ to think about Louis’ sex life now that he’s mentioned it.

“Not when you’re a late night show host in needs of a boost in ratings apparently. Or a journalist in a failing magazine. Or a curious fangirl who gets off on the thought of me with men.  Ever since I came out… Let’s just say it’s been intense.”

“I’m sorry, that sounds terrible.”

“People have been really supportive and I live a privileged life so I can live with those inconveniences." 

 _Of course_ , Harry thinks. He shouldn’t be surprised that Louis is being an eternal optimist about this. Like Harry wasn’t already super attracted to him.

“You shouldn’t have to. Your private life should be… private,” Harry says awkwardly. 

“It is, for the most part. Yes, it sucks when people think they’re entitled to more than what I’m willing to offer but the true rude ones aren’t as numerous, or at least not to my face. Most people who cross boundaries are well-meaning fans and as long as I stay away from their fandom spaces and they don’t send me inappropriate stuff, I’m cool.” 

“How can you be so… relaxed about this?” Harry asks. He can’t help but feel uneasy at the thought of so many people being aware of his every move, so many people wanting to know who he’s seeing and what he’s feeling. He’s not sure how Louis manages it. “It sounds terrifying.”

Louis laughs, shaking his head. Harry isn’t sure if he’s imagining the hint of bitterness hidden underneath.

“Sometimes it is. Some days it’s… unbearable.” 

“How do you do it? When it’s unbearable?”

“I think about all the people I’ve helped. All this money and this platform… It doesn’t really make sense, you know? I haven’t done anything special. It’s bizarre but using it for truly tangible good things… makes it easier and better.” Louis stops for a second. “And that made me sound like a twat,” he adds, rubbing his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m monopolising all of your time and now I’m whining.”

“Actually it was more bragging than whining,” Harry teases, biting his lower lips and hoping he isn’t going too far.

Louis looks confused for a second, letting his hand drop back on the bar and giving Harry a little frown.

“Look at me, I’m so charitable, when I have a bad day I think about all the money I gave away…” Harry explains, trying to mimic Louis’ high yet scratchy voice. Unlike Louis, he sounds like a dying cat, but seeing the way he blushes and licks his lips, trying to hide a smile makes the potential embarrassment worthwhile. When the crinkles by his eyes make an appearance a few seconds later, Harry thinks he’d embarrass himself every day for the rest of his life to make sure Louis always looks like that.

God, he needs to calm down.

“Okay, okay,” Louis says, almost to himself, “shutting up now.”

“I’m kidding, you’re lovely. I think it’s a lovely way of seeing things.”

“No, we’re changing the subject now,” Louis insists. “And we’re going to need more champagne. Just… more alcohol. All the alcohol,” he adds towards the barman who snorts before nodding.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“Well you have,” Louis laughs and he doesn’t look mad at least. “You thoroughly have.” 

“I know what you meant,” Harry says reassuringly, putting a comforting hand on Louis’ shoulder for a second before taking it away. 

“Still,” Louis cringes.

“Do you like living in L.A.?” Harry asks and when Louis raises an eyebrow at him he adds: “I’m changing the subject so you’ll stop feeling awkward.”

Louis scoffs. “How incredibly generous of you.”

“Well, we have that in common,” Harry shrugs. “Generosity,” he adds with a wink.

“You…” Louis trails off and shakes his head. “It’s not bad,” he answers instead, choosing to ignore Harry’s comment. “Sometimes you miss the cold." 

“That’s insane!”

“No, it’s true,” Louis laughs. “My agent says the same thing, that I don’t know what I’m talking about and that I haven’t stayed in England for long in ages but… I don’t know, it gets irritating. Always sunny. Sometimes you want a good old rainy day to fit your pissed off mood. Instead, it’s palm trees and sunglasses. Still, the beach is pretty amazing. I would never complain about that.”

Harry isn’t sure how it happens but suddenly they’ve been talking about L.A., Louis’ brother and sisters, the last bad movie they’ve seen and their respective careers for over an hour, huddled together in a corner of the bar, ignoring the rest of the wedding happening all around them 

Surely it shouldn’t feel this easy, right?

* 

“Anyway,” Louis says, finishing a filming anecdote that Harry cannot believe is real, “that’s the story of the worse filming experience I’ve ever had. Even wearing the uncomfortable superhero costume for twelve hours a day was more comfortable than that five minutes scene.”

“I can’t believe he said that to you, though. That’s completely inappropriate,” Harry grimaces. He doesn’t like the idea of Louis being poorly treated.

Louis shrugs, relaxed as ever. Harry is starting to think he doesn’t know how to be anything but.

“That’s entitled A-listers for you,” Louis whispers. “You’d be surprised how many people in Hollywood have better PR teams than personalities.” 

Harry snorts. “Please give me all the dirty details,” he begs. He’s never been one for gossip but the way Louis tells those stories has him fascinated. Or maybe it’s just the way he talks, with his whole face and body.

Louis seems to think it over for a second. “This is all off the record, right?” he asks before winking.

“Of course, who would I tell?” Harry says with a frown. He’s a bit offended Louis even has to ask, although he supposes they don’t know each other that well.

“Just checking,” Louis says, pressing his fingers reassuringly into Harry’s side, like he’s a spooked horse he’s trying to tame.

“Of course, I’m sorry. You don’t really know me, you have no reasons to trust me.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous Harry,” Louis says and he almost looks offended. “I’d trust you, Gemma and Anne with any of my secrets,” he adds, dead serious.

“Isn’t that a bit naive though?” 

“Do you know how many of my old classmates sold their stories about me to make a few pounds?” 

“I feel like I’m not gonna like that number,” Harry says sadly.

“The number doesn’t matter, all I’m saying is.... You never said anything. All those embarrassing photos or stories that Gemma has? Any of you could have easily sold me out in the past ten years since my career started. God knows many people did, but you guys were like family to me and you never betrayed that. I don’t mind telling you all that stuff because I know you won’t say anything.”

I… uh,” Harry clears his throat, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “I’m glad,” he whispers before shaking his head. “I mean, I’m glad that you trust us, that you know we wouldn’t betray you like that.”

“Good. Now, want to hear about the time I spilled Angelina Jolie’s drink?”

* 

“There you are!” Gemma yells, a few anecdotes later, and Harry is surprised at the strength of his irritation at the thought of being interrupted. ‘My baby brother,” she whispers, kissing him on the cheek and the annoyance decreases slightly. “How beautiful was his speech, uh?” she asks Louis, beaming with pride. 

“Very moving,” Louis agrees, smiling fondly in Harry’s direction.

What on earth is he supposed to do when Louis looks at him like that? Does he look at everyone like that? If so, how do they ever accomplish anything?

“Do you think I can borrow him?” Gemma continues, dragging Harry away from his stool before Louis even has the opportunity to answer. 

He laughs, waving them off. “Of course,” he calls after them. “I’ve stolen him away away from the party for far too long anyway.”

“Okay,” Gemma says sternly once they’ve walked a few feet away from the bar, “what are you gonna do about this?”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asks, looking into his sister’s determined face and finding no clues as to what she could possibly mean. 

Gemma huffs. “Um, Louis?”

Harry shakes his head helplessly. “Am I supposed to do something?” he asks, confused.

“You need to fuck him tonight,” Gemma declares. 

“What the -” Harry risks a glance towards the bar but Louis doesn’t seem to be looking towards them. “What are you talking about?” he whispers frantically. He’s not gonna… They’re not…

“Oh, come on,” Gemma says and she is speaking louder than she has ever spoken in her entire life. “I mean, I know you’ve had a crush on him since…. literally forever, like before he got hot and famous. This is your chance. I want you to do it,” she nods encouragingly.

“He was always hot and I don’t have a crush on him,” Harry replies in protest. “And we’re definitely not gonna fuck,” he adds in a whisper, looking at the bar again where Louis is now nodding politely to one their great-aunt Louise’s stories. There’s a joke hidden there about a potential double act, the Lous or something, but Harry is too busy trying to get his sister to _stop_ to make it.

 “What’s the point of you flirting for ages if you’re not gonna fuck. Come on Harry live a little. He’s here, he’s attractive, you really like him and somehow he hasn’t talked to anyone else at this wedding except for your dorky self. Do it for me.”

“You want me to fuck Louis Tomlinson for you?” Harry says a bit too loud and his heart stops beating when he sees Louis turning towards them in the corner of his eyes. “That’s really messed up,” he continues. “Go back to your husband Miss, you’ve drunkenly rambled enough.”

“He has such a great bum,” Gemma whispers with a giggle and Louis visibly react at the comment, licking his lips and trying to hide his smirk as he keeps nodding politely to whatever their great-aunt is still telling him. 

Harry wants to die.

“I’m not talking about this with you,” Harry says warningly.

“Remember the shower scene,” Gemma teases, wiggling her eyebrows and how could Harry ever forget. That movie scene is tattooed on the back of his eyelids, he’s going to remember it until the day he dies. “Even _I_ almost fainted in the theater when I saw it.”

“Okay!” Harry says loudly, turning Gemma away from the bar and starting to push her towards the crowd of dancers. “Where is that husband of yours anyway? Wanna talk about _his_ bum?”

“That’s also a good bum, although his co-” 

“Look mum’s right here,” Harry interrupts before she gets to finish her sentence. He can guess the R-rated ending easily. He attended the Bachelorette party after all. 

“My babies,” Anne laughs, wrapping her arms around Gemma and swaying her to the rhythm of the song playing.

“I’m so happy mum,” Gemma whispers, hugging their mother back.

“I’m so happy you’re happy,” Anne says, kissing her eldest on the cheeks as they keep dancing together.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Harry quickly mumbles, walking back towards the bar, wondering how he can ever face Louis after what he probably overheard.

Of course, once Harry finally reaches the bar again Louis seems unconcerned, too busy charming the pants off great-aunt Louise, laughing at all of her terrible jokes and complimenting her frankly horrible hat. He’s so great Harry wants to scream. 

He hates when Gemma is right. 

“Wanna go outside?” Harry blurts when he finally gets to Louis, ignoring the delighted smile that appears on great-aunt Louise’s face when he suggests it.

“What a marvelous idea,” she replies. “You youngsters should go have some fun. Shoo.”

 *

“Good conversation with your sister?” Louis asks once they’ve stepped outside the reception hall and into the charming garden. Harry hadn’t noticed how annoying he found the music until it softened into a distant background noise.

He gulps at the question. “I’d rather not discuss it,” he says weakly.

“Don’t worry,” Louis says, elbowing Harry as they start walking, “I know how annoying and insistent Gemma can be.”

“So, do you jerk off thinking about how charitable you are?” Harry asks, feeling bold in his desire to change the subject.  

Louis snorts, putting both of his hands on his mouth. “Fuck,” he giggles. “Okay Styles, I see how it is.” 

“I won’t go off topic if you don’t,” Harry offers, raising an eyebrow.

“Alright, I thought we could make fun of the fact your sister likes my arse, but if that makes you uncomfortable,” Louis shrugs, pouting exaggeratedly. 

“Never say those words again. I’m very open-minded to discussions about sexuality with my sibling but the Bachelorette party is too fresh in my mind okay. So please, stop,” Harry begs.

He doesn’t realise his mistake until Louis’ face lights up with utter delight, eyes widening and mouth opening in a happy grin.

“What happened at the Bachelorette party?” he asks excitedly. “Please tell me, I haven’t seen her in ages all my teasing material is out of date. Please, please, please!” 

“Don’t make me say it,” Harry pouts, feeling slightly nauseous at the thought of revisiting those memories.

Except Louis is so pretty and he’s begging Harry with those pleading blue eyes that are somehow more attractive in person than on film, more attractive than Harry remembered.

“She got really drunk and talked about her now husband’s anatomy for ninety minutes,” he admits, looking up to the sky to avoid Louis’ gaze. “I know everything there is to know about my brother-in-law’s penis and how he uses it.” 

“That might be the most Gemma thing I’ve ever heard and I love it. She’s so direct and straightforward, God I missed her,” Louis says fondly, putting a hand on his chest and sighing.

“I have to spend Christmas with this guy for the rest of my life.” 

“You’ll forget all about it, it’s just ‘cause it’s recent.”

Harry’s mind flashes back to that evening. “There was some… visual support. Forgetting is unlikely. Of course, she was so drunk she doesn’t remember any of it. Gotta love the irony.”

“I’m not laughing at you, I promise,” Louis replies, blatantly laughing.

Harry sighs loudly then risks a little look to his left where Louis is standing. “I guess it’s a little bit funny. She had a graph and everything,” he adds and that sends Louis into another burst of laughter. He’s shaking and has to reach for Harry’s arm to support himself when he almost stumbles to the ground.

“Go on, make fun of my suffering.”

“Agreeing to come to this wedding was the best decision ever,” Louis says, squeezing Harry’s bicep.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” Harry replies and he doesn’t even have it in him to try and sound sarcastic. 

"I really am!" Louis exclaims and he almost sounds surprised. He's still holding Harry's arm as they stroll around the garden. "I was hoping I would but... Sometimes when it's been a long time since you've seen people, things can get awkward and I didn't want that to happen. Especially with so many strangers around too." 

"Wait," Harry replies, slowly figuring it out, "were you nervous?" 

Louis' eyes widen. "Of course I was bloody nervous!" 

Harry frowns and shakes his head at the same time. "Why?" 

"I hadn't seen you guys in forever... People change. It went well on the phone with Gemma and I was really excited to see her so I figured I'd try but it was nerve-wracking. Then I got here and saw your mum and everything was fine." 

"Yeah she tends to do that." 

Louis squints.

"Make things fine," Harry elaborates. "I can't believe you were nervous though, I felt like an idiot being so stressed about seeing you again and turns out you were nervous all along." 

"Just because I don't show it," Louis rolls his eyes. "You think I don't get nervous on talk shows? At award shows?" 

"You always look so... perfect and comfortable. At ease." 

"It's called acting darling, you might not know it but I've made a career out of that." 

"Ohhhh," Harry teases, "that's what you've been up to in LA?! I had no idea you haven't been successful enough." 

"Yeah I know, s'been tough," Louis sighs. 

Harry stops walking. "Was it?" he asks seriously. 

"Acting?" 

"Moving away." 

"I was devasted at first," Louis admits. "Kept crying, though I was too proud to tell anyone about it. But it got better. And I think, knowing I wanted to be an actor, it kind of helped to think I was in the right place to try and make it, you know?" 

"Would you have moved back to Britain? If it hadn't worked?" 

"For sure," Louis admits easily. "I have a house in London right now. I like being close to my roots. And my agent wants me to spend a couple of weeks in the North every year. He's terrified I'm gonna loose me accent and the spell will be broken. " 

Harry snorts. With eyes like Louis' he doubt there's any chance of his charm ever disappearing. 

"I'm serious, you'd be surprised how far a Brit accent can get you in the States."

"Oh yeah?" 

"Got me out of a few tickets." 

"Seriously?" 

Louis looks at Harry with pleading eyes. "Oh dear, I'm sorry officer I'm not from here," he says, exaggerating his accent, before breaking character and smirking.

"You are shameless."

"And proud," Louis agrees, puffing his chest. "Surely you're not surprised?" 

Harry shakes his head. It's like he said before, Louis really hasn't changed. 

* 

“We should dance,” Louis says ten minutes later when the faint sound of the music switches to a slower beat. 

“I’m not a really a dancer,” Harry replies. He’s not opposed to letting loose in the club once in awhile but that’s not what Louis is suggesting here. 

“You danced with the kids!” Louis argues. “And might I add that it was adorable.” 

“If by adorable you mean embarrassing, then sure. Anyway, dancing with the kids is not the same.”

“Exactly!” Louis exclaims, like Harry gave him a weapon. “It’s a wedding, you have to properly dance with people at weddings. I’ve been stealing your attention all evening, I’d feel bad if you didn’t get to fully experience this because of me. Come on,” Louis says, holding his hand out, “for me?”

Harry bites his lower lip before shrugging. “I guess,” he replies with an eyeroll, pretending like it’s such a hardship. “Just one dance though,” he adds, reaching for Louis’ hand and hoping his isn’t too sweaty.

Louis smiles, taking a step forward and wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist, bringing their two bodies close together.

This is fine. Harry is fine. 

Louis starts moving them around to the beat of an imaginary song, Harry humiliatingly trying to follow along. 

“What are you doing?” he asks with a laugh. “Oooops,” Harry adds when he steps on Louis’ foot. 

“I’m trying to waltz,” Louis replies with a grimace, “but you’re not making this easy for me.”

“I don’t know how to waltz and I’m pretty sure they’re not playing a waltz inside.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Louis whispers against Harry’s cheek, “just follow my lead.” 

Harry tightens his grip on Louis’ shoulder and tries to do so, but it’s surprisingly difficult to concentrate when they’re so close together. Especially when Louis starts humming charmingly under his breath, clearly an attempt to make it easier for his partner.

 “You’re a good singer,” Harry says after a few seconds. He’s sure he’s heard this melody somewhere before but his muddled brain can’t seem to figure it out. “And a good dancer.”

Louis chuckles. “That’s what happens when you have dance rehearsals six hours a day for two months for a movie,” he admits. 

 _Oh._ Harry stops moving and stares at Louis’ face with wide excited eyes. “That’s how I know this song!” 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t figure it out,” Louis admits, scrunching his nose. “It’s easier to impress people when they don’t figure it out.”

He’s still touching Harry, one of his hands warm and comforting on Harry’s lower back, the other holding Harry’s, their fingers tangled together. It’s a lot to hear he’s trying to impress Harry of all people when they’re still intertwined like this.

“I am impressed.” 

“Even if I confess it’s the only dance I know?” Louis asks. 

“It’s one more dance than I know. Unless you count grinding.” 

“Ah!” Louis squeaks in delight. “I wasn’t but I’m changing my answer. I know two dances.”

 “So multi-talented,” Harry sighs. “I hope they’re both on your resume under special skills.”

“Oh piss off, will you?” Louis says with a fond smile and for a second there, Harry could swear they’re going to kiss.

Their faces get closer together, the air feels electric and Harry is trying to decide whether he wants it to happen when something starts ringing in Louis’ pockets.

Louis startles, seemingly coming back to himself, and he takes a step away from Harry, letting go of his hand and waist. Harry shivers, suddenly feeling cold without the warmth of Louis’ body against his. 

“You’re…” Harry points towards Louis’ jacket, “ringing.” 

“S’my alarm,” Louis admits, passing a hand through his quiff. “Got an early wake-up call tomorrow so I promised myself I wouldn’t stay late.”

“A curfew?” Harry says with a nervous nod, “how very Cinderella of you.”

“Need my beauty sleep if I wanna look good on camera tomorrow.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a team of professional makeup artists to make sure of that,” Harry teases automatically, hoping it hides the fact that he doesn’t want Louis to go. 

“Oh Harold, I would love to stay and hear how thoroughly unimpressed you are by me and my fame but I really do have to go. My car is gonna be here any minute.”

Harry smirks.

“Don’t make a joke about me having a car picking me up,” Louis warns, poking Harry in the dimple that has appeared in his right cheek.

Harry traps Louis’ hand between his, bringing them all against his chest.

“It was nice seeing you,” he says, refusing to get choked up. He can’t believe one evening with Louis was enough to reawaken a fifteen years old crush. He should have known.

“It was nice seeing you too Harry. I had a lot of fun." 

“I’m glad. Good luck filming.”

“Thanks,” Louis replies and he just stays there, his small hand trapped between Harry’s. “I should go say goodbye to the others,” he adds after a few more seconds. “Your mother, Gemma…”

Harry nods, still holding Louis’ hand.

“Bye then,” Louis says, going on his tiptoes to kiss Harry’s cheek.

Just like that he’s gone, without a trace, like he wasn’t there in the first place. 

“Well,” Harry mumbles sadly to himself, “that’s that.”

 

_2 Days After_

Harry wouldn’t say he’s moping per se, but he’s glad he spent the past two days of his life alone and without witnesses. He’s watched twelve romantic comedies and hasn’t left his flat, or his sweats, in the past forty-eight hours. It’s normal post-wedding depression, he’s sure of it. He’s single. Weddings are tough for single people.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with Louis,” he whispers to Fluffy as the credits of Love Actually starts rolling. It’s actually his third viewing of that particular film today. It’s his comfort movie and he’s feeling a bit mopey, no one is allowed to judge him. 

“It’s not like I really wanted anything to happen. I mean… He’s famous, there’s no way it could have been more than a fling. And I’m not a fling person. It’s all for the best Fluff.”

Fluffy meows encouragingly. 

“I mean…. Sure, I was a bit in love with him as a kid and sure, he’s really lovely as an adult, but it’s just not realistic. Just because we had a bit of fun and a nice conversation doesn’t mean we would be compatible, right?”

He’s not sure who he’s trying to convince more, Fluffy or himself. Turns out he doesn’t have to try and figure it out because his phone starts ringing from where he left it on the kitchen table. He sighs, dragging himself from the sofa to the kitchen. He wishes he could just ignore it but it might be a customer and just because he’s a tiny little bit sad doesn’t mean he can pretend his business doesn’t exist.

He glances at the phone and rolls his eyes when he doesn’t recognise the number. Oh well, as long as it’s not another wedding.

“Hello?” Harry says in his most professional and cheerful voice, putting a fake smile on his face. Clients tend to sense those things.

“Hey, Harry.” Harry’s eyes widen when he recognises the voice, his hand slacking in shock and almost dropping the phone. “It’s Louis,” the voice continues hesitantly when Harry doesn’t reply, “Louis Tomlinson?”

“Yes,” Harry nods, heart in his throat. He starts walking back towards his living room, hastily closing the telly still playing the Love Actually menu. How did Louis even get his phone number? “Hi, hello.”

“How have you been?” Louis asks casually and Harry is about to open his mouth to blatantly lie when Louis continues, “Do you know how incredibly embarrassing it was to have to call your sister to get your phone number?” he asks with a self-deprecating laugh.

Harry giggles awkwardly in response, feeling slightly disoriented by what is currently happening. Louis called him. Louis called Gemma because he wanted to call him.

“She’s on her honeymoon… ?” he replies hesitantly, still trying to make sense of the situation.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees enthusiastically. Harry can imagine his expressive face, the way his eyes are probably widening in emphasis. “Which is why it was embarrassing. I really wish I hadn’t forgotten to ask you. Would have been way less humiliating.”

“You called her on her honeymoon?” Harry asks again just to be quite sure.

“Yes.”

“Because you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yep,” Louis replies happily.

“You disturbed her on her honeymoon?” 

“In my defense,” Louis argues with a laugh, “I kinda forgot it was her honeymoon.” 

Oh, Harry could listen to him talk all day. 

“You _just_ went to her wedding!” he replies, faking outrage for a second before accidentally letting out a small giggle. “Like two days ago!”

“Yes, well I was a bit preoccupied. You might not know this but she has this really fit younger brother. Not only that, but he’s also super funny and adorable. The rest kinda… disappeared.”

Harry gulps, feelings himself blush at the sound of Louis’ scratchy voice and the lovely, completely crazy things coming out of his mouth. 

“You still there babe?” Louis asks softly. 

“Yeah…” Harry says before clearing his throat. “Yes, I’m here.”

There’s an awkward moment of silence where neither of them says anything and all Harry can focus on is the frantic beating of his own heart as he keeps thinking about all the things Louis has said. The moment stretches and lengthens.

“She must have been so pissed,” Harry chuckles to himself to break the tension.

Louis hums. “A little bit at first, but I had some compelling arguments.”

“Like what?” 

“Like the fact that I really want to ask her brother out on a date and I’d love to do it as quickly as possible. Before he forgets all about me.”

“There’s a poster of your next movie near my flat, I think it would be hard for me to forget you.”

“Is that gonna play against me?” Louis asks and Harry wonders if he’s imagining the hint of vulnerability in his voice.

“What?”

“You know… the whole..." Louis pauses and Harry can almost imagine him gesturing vaguely. " _Movies_ thing" 

“Should it?” Harry asks slowly

“Depends who you ask.”

“Well, I’m asking you.”

“I’m really hoping it won’t,” Louis admits. 

Harry would love to say he takes a minute to truly think it over, to muse about the implications of dating someone as famous as Louis is. Truth is, he doesn’t have to think about it at all. It was always going to be yes.

“So,” Louis adds and he sounds fond and hopeful, “can I take you out on a date Styles?”

“I reckon you can, yeah.”

“You said…” Louis clears his throat and takes a deep breath. God, Harry would give anything to be able to see his face right now. “You said my life looks terrifying. Having my privacy invaded like that?" 

“It does,” Harry admits shakily.

“Then I’m going to ask again, just to be sure that you really want this okay?” Louis says in a small voice. He sounds vulnerable, tiny.

“Okay,” Harry whispers.

“Can I take you out on a date?”

“Yes,” Harry replies without thinking and he means it. He really means it, even if it’s scary.

“Are you sure?”

“It sounds like you don’t want me to say yes.”

“No, I do. I really, really do. I just… I don’t want to start something that’s going to make you uncomfortable. Because it’s not easy, dating me. I come with… baggage,” Louis trails off. 

“Everyone comes with baggage,” Harry argues. He starts pinching the skin of his left index with his fingers, a nervous habit he can’t seem to shake off. “Pretending otherwise is silly.”

“Yeah except my baggage is going to follow our every move and make shit up about us for the world to consume.”

“Your life looks terrifying,” Harry admits in a small voice. He can’t deny finding it scary, but there are things bigger than fear. “It’s true. I won’t lie and say that it doesn’t concern me.”

“Right, then let’s forget it,” Louis interrupts and Harry’s heart stops at the thought, dread filling his belly.  And that’s the thing, isn’t it?

“That’s actually even scarier,” he admits. “I… like you. A lot. I have for a long time. A really embarrassing long time,” he adds with a chuckle, feeling relieved he can finally tell Louis.

“I had an inkling,” Louis replies softly.

“Yeah? Twelve years old me wasn’t subtle enough?”

“Oh twelve years old you was fine, it’s fourteen years old Gemma who thought it was hilarious and wouldn’t shut up about it to be honest.”

“What?” Harry yells making Fluffy jumps from where she was curled up on the couch. “That lying… She promised she wouldn’t tell!” he adds, letting himself drop on the sofa defeatedly.

He knows it’s irrational and that it was a long time ago but Harry can’t help feeling furious at the sting of her betrayal. He should have known never to trust her with a secret like this. 

“Oh, she told me,” Louis laughs and how can he be laughing when Harry was just stabbed in the back. “Literally the same day you told her." 

Harry huffs angrily. “If she thinks she’s getting away with that…”

“So… would Friday night work?” Louis asks but Harry is barely paying attention, preoccupied by the three different revenge plans that are quickly starting to form in his mind. He needs to text Niall, enlist some help.

“I’m gonna call her. Today." 

“She’s on her honeymoon.”

“She deserves to be disturbed, okay. I can’t believe that she would betray me like this.”

"Well, technically she was already disturbed," Louis argues. "By me." 

Harry grimaces even though Louis can't see him. It's a good argument, he can't deny it, even though it's not as satisfying as calling her himself. 

“Besides," Louis adds, tone a little too mocking for Harry's taste, "does it matter?”

And of course it doesn’t matter, not really. Not anymore.

Harry sighs in defeat. “I suppose not,” he mumbles petulantly.

“Then, friday night? If you’re sure?"  

“I’m sure,” Harry replies, finally letting himself smile at the thought. He’s going on a date with Louis Tomlinson. He’s finally going on a date with Louis Tomlinson. 

 

_1685 Days After_

“Are you okay?” Gemma asks, fiddling with his hair and he would be if she stopped buzzing around him for two seconds. “Not getting cold feet?”

“I’m fine,” Harry replies through gritted teeth.

“You look a bit pale, it’s completely normal to feel nervous. I was wreck on my wedding day.”

“Yes,” Harry says, pasting a fake smile on his face. “I remember. I’m the one who held your hand through it.“

Gemma smiles but there’s pity in her eyes like she has any idea how he’s feeling. It’s extremely irritating. Especially since she probably does know how he’s feeling. 

“You’re gonna be fine,” she says softly.

“I know,” Harry replies, rolling his eyes. If he doesn’t die from fright before the ceremony then yeah, he’s going to be fine. He’s going to be more than fine, he’s going to be ecstatic, getting to spend the rest of his days with the love of his life. 

“No, you don’t,” Gemma laughs. “But I’ve been there and I’m telling you, you’re going to be brilliant. And you and Louis are gonna be so happy.”

Harry smiles automatically at the sound of his fiancé’s name and he knows he probably look sappy and fond, but he can’t help it. Besides, it’s his wedding day, he’s allowed to be as mushy as he wants.

“Gross,” Gemma teases. 

“Oi! It’s my wedding day I can look as sappy as I want. You were just as bad.” 

“Oh no,” she replies, shaking her head, “I never looked as creepy and disgustingly in love as you two do. Ask the internet.” 

“The internet loves us so clearly it has great taste. Buzzfeed Couple of the year, two years in a row. Where’s your award for being in love?”

“That’s what you should open your vows with. Just list all the stupid publications who think you two are soulmates.” 

“Nah,” Harry shrugs, “wouldn’t want to steal Lou’s idea.”

Gemma snorts. “Seriously though, show them to me,” she begs, as she has many times before. 

“I’m gonna wing it,” he replies, as he has many times before.

“Fine,” she huffs, “be secretive.” She finally leaves his hair alone and takes a step away from him, folding her arms across her chest.

She never believes him, but Harry doesn’t care. Speaking from the heart has served well in the past. This time, he isn’t even nervous about finding the right thing to say.


End file.
